


Supreme Designer Kylo Ren and the First Order of Fashion

by L_awlietxoxx



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_awlietxoxx/pseuds/L_awlietxoxx
Summary: Look, there’s a part of Kylo Ren that is fierce as fuck, so this Devil Wears Prada-meets-Reylo AU basically just wrote itself. :)





	Supreme Designer Kylo Ren and the First Order of Fashion

“Prepare my ship, stat! And so help me, there better be a double-shot espresso waiting there for me.”

Crewmembers and assistants tripped over themselves to escape the path of Kylo Ren’s glower as he swept onto the Supremacy’s command bridge. A sharp flick of his wrist sent his blacker-than-black, higher-thread-count-than-you-could-count cowl flipping over his shoulder. His hair looked immaculately tousled, as usual. Also per usual: His expression wavered in the tight balance between extreme focus and an extreme inclination towards violence. 

“This week’s numbers, sir.” 

A young, flustered assistant intercepted him when he reached the bridge to hand him the flat-screen monitor she had prepared. He nodded, eyes immediately training on the screen and gloved fingers swiftly pulling up the desired statistics. All the while his stride never broke, his gleaming heeled boots clicking a swift tempo on the floor. 

Such was the renown of Supreme Designer Kylo Ren: Always dressed head-to-toe in black, yet unfailingly the best dressed in every room he walked into. 

“Also, your PA paged,” the tiny assistant added meekly, struggling to keep up with his long strides to deliver the message.

“Thank you,” he said off-handedly, his attention clearly absorbed in the numbers and charts on the screen. He flicked one finger in the woman’s direction to dismiss her.

Kylo didn’t look up from the hand-held screen once he reached the main bridge, overlooking the ship’s wide observatory deck and surrounded by crewmen at control panels. 

“Hux,” He said curtly when the commander approached his side. “Don’t tell me you’re wearing rubber-soled shoes on my bridge.”

Hux’s lips pinched together in a scowl. He furtively looked around before giving a brief, self-conscious glance towards his own sub-standard footwear. 

“Sir, our course is set for Coruscant and we should arrive a full day before the exhibition of our new line begins. Plenty of time for you to confirm the models and stage set-up.”

“Good. One would think the galaxy’s forefront fashion exhibit would always book the best, but some of last year’s so-called models made my designs look like scavenger rags. With poor presentation like that, it’s no wonder the Coruscant numbers keep lagging.”

Kylo’s eyes narrowed as he continued peering at the screen in his hands. 

“Speaking of which…,” he stabbed the screen a few times more, before finally looking up and pinning Hux with narrowed eyes. “The Coruscant numbers are missing.” 

Hux went completely rigid beside him. Kylo waved the screen in the air with a black-gloved hand. He turned to widen the range of his glower beyond just Hux, as his voice rose a hazardous increment. 

“Last week’s fashion critics predicted this line would finally dominate the Coruscant markets – The only market niche where we don’t already determine the trends. But I need this week’s sale numbers to know which new pieces to highlight for maximum market traction!”

Suddenly, every crewmember took pains to look extraordinarily busy and preoccupied. The assistant who had handed Kylo the screen looked near tears, while the others broke into fearful, hushed conversations hidden behind their hands.

“Sir, your PA is paging you…”

But Kylo may as well not have heard. Once something awoke his displeasure, it was difficult to derail a fit of temper that left the whole ship and all its occupants in pieces.

“This is unbelievable. We are a week away from the new line’s launch, and our best chance to finally reach complete market dominance and we’re missing the sale numbers…”

“Kylo!” 

The entire bridge fell into complete, terrified silence. Kylo whirled so swiftly, his cloak snapped around his knees.

Rey had just emerged from the elevator. The tilt of her eyebrows was a silent admonishment of the tense aura of fear she had just entered.

She brandished the hand-held screen she was holding and said only, “I have the Coruscant numbers.”

An audible sigh of relief passed over the bridge. Kylo sniffed. He pressed the now-useless screen he’d been holding at Hux’s chest before gliding back towards the elevators.

“At least someone here is competent.”

Rey sighed, giving him the silent-yet-unmistakable “Really?” look as he approached her. Once she handed him the screen, she looked around the bridge with a warm smile.

“Good job, everyone. We’ll reach the show with time to spare, and you’ve all done brilliant with the preparations.”

“'Brilliant' is a little strong,” Kylo quietly groused at her, earning an immediate shushing.

“Next time, do everyone a favor and don’t ignore when I’m paging you.” 

“Miss Rey,” a crewmember came up to her with a little bow as she and Kylo turned back towards the elevators. “Would you like your ship prepared as well to travel to Coruscant ahead of us?”

“That’s alright, Jonas. I’ll fly with Kylo.”

“Very good.”

As they passed into the elevator, Kylo finally looked up from the screen. Jonas made another half-bow in Rey’s direction before returning to his post as the elevator doors slid closed. 

Rey, personal assistant to the Supreme Designer, garnered all the respect he did himself. While people scrambled over each other for the chance to shake Kylo’s hand or grovel at his feet, every single person who’d ever worked with Rey seemed overjoyed at the chance to attend to her every need and request. 

“Jonas?” Kylo couldn’t help asking.

Rey huffed. “Honestly, Kylo. He’s on the command bridge every single day. I swear you make an effort to forget all our employees’ names.”

“I just have too many other, more important things to remember.”

“Right. And me – in charge of running the day-to-day operations of your multi-galaxy fashion empire – I’ve got nothing else going on up there.”

Kylo opened his mouth, then closed it again. He settled on, “That’s not what I meant.”

Shortly thereafter, once Kylo had taken off in his private speeder, thrown back his double-espresso, and set the autopilot on, Rey called to him from the back of the ship, “The Coruscant numbers really are quite strong.”

Kylo unwound his cowl, unhooked his cloak, and peeled his gloves off as he walked back to join her. She sat cross-legged, her hands extended upward to page through a digital projection of the analytics data.

“Nothing is certain until the line goes on the market. You can’t account for taste, so no sale projections are ever completely reliable.”

She noticed something in the readings that made her face light up with glee. Looking over to watch him hang up his cloak, she said, “Guess which piece had the highest sales last quarter.”

“Hmm.” He took his time unbuttoning the tight collar around his throat while he considered. “The temperature-adapting thigh-rise boots. Or, the Haitian steel-lined trench.”

“Guess again.”

Rey waved her fingers over the projection for a dramatic reveal as Kylo came to sit behind her, looping an arm loosely around her waist.

“Is that…?” His eyes squinted a bit in disbelief.

“Sure is,” she declared smugly. “Last year’s gown that you wanted to trash but I insisted on repurposing. I told you the gold slash across the breast would take off. We’ve even had some customization orders where people requested the gold to be added to other pieces.”

Kylo gave an over-dramatic sigh, but smiled nonetheless. He made sure to hide the smile in Rey’s hair. While she waved her fingers to turn off the info display, Kylo’s lips began a lazy path down her neck. 

He breathed against the junction of her neck and shoulder, “I told you – can’t account for taste.”

She released a breathy laugh. Her fingers slid their way in between his, pulling his arms more tightly around herself. She let her head relax back against him, granting his mouth more access to her skin.

“And yet, what would you do without me?” she sighed.

Kylo didn’t enjoy dwelling on such a question. It rose in his mind now and then: Standing on a stage awash in camera flashbulbs, accepting yet another award with Rey at his side to give both the charming smile and the eloquent thank-you speech. Reaching for her across cold bed sheets to draw her warmth closer, during the hours and days and weeks spent in his speeder flying from one show or consultation to another halfway across the galaxy. 

Thinking that he was only meant to interact with leather and cashmere and silk because they were the only things that understood his attraction to beauty, but inability to embody its gentle mannerisms. 

Until Rey, who always knew how to give perfect descriptions of his designs at press conferences; Who developed advertisements perfectly embodying all the sentiments and devotion he poured into his work – Even the ones he himself had yet to put names to; Who had all the efficiency and kindness to keep Kylo’s hundreds of employees appreciated and well-compensated, and in so doing keep his fashion empire in tact.

Even in the moments when he felt most at a loss to understand all the people who bought his designs, Rey was always there to bridge the gap.

Kylo pulled himself short from drowning in the question. He knew she’d only meant it flippantly. He grounded himself again with her scent – with the slope of her waist through her clothes. Sweet warmth unfolded inside him as his fingers recognized the texture of the tunic-style shirt he had created just for her. 

“The question is impossible, and therefore doesn’t bear thinking on.”

“Kylo,” she sighed, and tilted her head all the way back to find his lips. She had long ago grown accustomed to his ever-formal, analytical manner of speech. She could always read between his lines. She could hear the unspoken, and feel on his skin what lay beneath.

Much later, once their clothes were disheveled and entirely unpresentable, Rey lifted her head from Kylo’s shoulder just enough to squint at the remaining flight time.

“Two hours until arrival.” 

She curled herself back around Kylo’s chest with a deep, contented sigh. “In other words – two hours to enjoy you before you go into pre-show berserker mode.”

He huffed. “I won’t be criticized for making sure every detail is perfect. How else will we finally take over the Coruscant market?” 

“Definitely not by you going on another rampage like on Naboo last month, where you fired half of the models an hour before the show. Can’t you try to see they’re at least doing their best? I know you always have ideas in your head for how everything should look with perfect presentation, but sometimes it’s just not possible.”

He didn’t respond at first. After a moment of entirely relaxed silence, he rolled onto his side, enfolding her almost completely in his arms and the wide breadth of his chest. 

“Of course it is. That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> Much more of this AU here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744464/chapters/31582200


End file.
